


Their Shining Star

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Child Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Grief/Mourning, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020, Heartbreaking, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Magic used in anger, Magical Pregnancy, Mentions of Blood, Miscarriage, Misuse of Sleeping Potion, Mpreg, Pregnant Draco Malfoy, Scans, Scars, Shock, Stillbirth, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hospital stay, poor communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Draco tries to negotiate life after late-stage pregnancy loss.Based on the prompt:Losing their baby is something that Draco hadn't prepared for enough, at least now he knows he hadn't and it's all he can do not to let himself vanish after that - Harry's presence helps but he can't help but think he's failed him.Please mind the tags. The content of this story is potentially very upsetting and triggering. It is not my intent to traumatise anyone with this story.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 239
Collections: H/D Hurt!Fest 2020





	Their Shining Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts).



> Thank you to HogwartsToAlexandria for your excellent prompt. I really hope that I did it the justice that it deserved. 
> 
> Thank you to the Mods of this very hurtful fest!
> 
> Both quotes are taken from the book _The Unspeakable Loss_ by Nisha Zenoff.
> 
> Please be warned: it was not my intent to make Harry appear emotionless or a poor supporter of Draco in his time of grief. However this is Draco's story and therefore we see events from his perspective. Harry is every bit as bereft as Draco but he has different coping strategies.

**__**

######  **_“How very softly you tiptoed into our world, almost silently, only a moment you stayed. But what an imprint your footprints have left upon our hearts.” —Dorothy Ferguson (2012)_ **

**  
**

~*~*~

Of all the places in the world, Draco had discovered that he was pregnant inside the toilet of a Muggle supermarket. 

The wizard had gone to Tescos all by himself, intent on his mission of buying one of their nifty little tests. Draco hadn’t wanted the rigmarole of Diagon, with its crowds of inquisitive wix and its busy familiarity. 

Draco had wanted anonymity. 

He marched straight over to the Chemist counter, brought a box labelled _Clearblue_ and then Draco had ran promptly into the cubical near to the tills. 

A Muggle public toilet, with its filthy surfaces and graffiti adorned walls wasn’t where Draco had ever envisioned finding out the most significant, momentous news of his life but, as the line on his little plastic stick turned a resoundingly dark shade of blue, Draco had found that his hands were shaking and his brain danced with happiness. 

Draco was so euphoric that he could barely breathe. It was positive. 

He was pregnant. 

Harry and he had wanted a baby for so long that everything felt scarcely real. Both wizards had watched as friend after friend carried their beautiful babies to term, each one of them a blessing and a joy. Harry and he had smiled, and they had shook hands, but their hearts had both ached. The two had simply wanted a little of that magic for themselves. 

Draco had wrapped the test in stasis magic and dropped it into his pocket. He smiled and took a long, steadying breath 

This time it was Harry and his turn to carry a baby. 

Their turn to visit St Mungos. Their turn to choose names and decorate a nursery. They would need to put their little one’s name down for the local wizarding primary school and for Hogwarts too. They’d have to buy baby clothes and board books and set a million child-proofing spells all over Grimmauld Place. 

Draco’s heart raced with plans and ideas. Harry and he would need to tell Mother first of course. She’d be the most marvellous Grandmother that ever lived. Pansy too. Draco wouldn’t be forgiven easily if his best-friend was the last person to know. 

Draco Apparated home, turning around and vanishing from that scruffy, seedy little cubical where his whole existence had shifted and changed forever. Draco was finally pregnant with his and Harry’s much wanted—and already very loved—baby. Everything was different now. 

That evening, Draco waited patiently at the dinner table. Every cell of his body had urged him to floo to Harry’s office at the Department of Magical Law, shouting their news from the rooftops but he forced himself to delay. 

Harry was a public figure and Draco never disturbed him at work if he could help it. Tongues would most certainly wag were he to Apparate into the middle of the DMLE. 

Their little test was sat on the pale pine of the wood in front of him, undeniably positive. A bubble of excitement built up in Draco’s tummy. He could already picture Harry’s thrilled expression the very moment that he realised that he was going to be a father. Draco lay his hand on his still-flat belly. He was tense and overexcited, all at the same time.

Draco was too nervous to drink and his appetite had deserted him entirely. 

Every second that passed by felt like an hour. 

The floo chimed at precisely three minutes past six and Draco heard all the familiar sounds of his husband arriving home for his evening. Draco heard the sound of Harry Reducio’ing his Auror kit and the sound of his darling throwing his work satchel into the cupboard beneath the stairs. 

Seconds later there was the sound of loud footsteps striding into the kitchen. 

Merlin, but Harry was noisy! Draco felt a wash of love roll over his skin. Harry Potter could fill a room with his sheer presence alone. He ran a hand through his white-blond hair, trying his hardest to arrange his face into something that at least resembled calm. 

“Hello Draco.” Harry said, walking into the room. The scorched scent of the floo filled Draco’s senses as he stood and wrapped his arms around his husband’s middle. 

Harry pressed his habitual kiss onto the other wizard’s lips before he gave Draco a questioning look. “Why are you just waiting in here love?” he asked. “You’re not normally home from work this early but I saw your bag in the hall and-”

“Work was fine,” Draco cut in, watching as Harry opened the cupboard to take out mugs and tea-bags. Harry’s gorgeous green eyes still hadn’t noticed the pregnancy test on the table. “Nothing exciting to report there. The Apothecary is ticking along, same as always… The thing is, Millie let me have the afternoon off Harry. I had an errand that I wanted to run in Muggle London.”

Harry put the mugs down next to the sink and tapped his wand on the kettle. 

“Muggle London?” Harry smiled, opening the fridge and getting out milk. “By yourself? Wonders will never cease. Whatever was in London that you couldn’t get on Diagon?” Harry yawned and scratched his chin. “I should probably have stayed at work, love. Bloody _hell_. Robards was on the warpath this afternoon. He wanted those reports on that Welsh Green theft case—which I _still_ haven’t finished—and Ron was being about as helpful as a chocolate sodding cauldron. I decided to come home. I can far get far more done here and I was sick of staring at the same four walls-”

“Harry,” Draco interrupted, trying to stop Harry’s ramblings. Normally Draco loved to listen to the  
events of his husband’s day, but today he had more important things to say. “Harry-”

“What is it?” Harry asked, his eyes face suddenly clouding over with concern. “Has somebody said something in the shop? Or was it the bloody _Prophet?_ I’ve warned them, Draco! I’ve bloody warned them. I won’t have them spreading lies about us!” Harry pulled a chair out and sat down heavily. “Has something unpleasant happened? Talk to me.”

“No, no,” Draco reassured. “Nothing like that, love. Nothing horrible.” He passed the pregnancy test over to Harry with trembling fingers. “Nothing horrible at all. The opposite actually… It’s something wonderful.”

Harry turned the test over in his fingers and Draco saw the light of realisation dawn across his husband’s features. 

His eyes widened and he dropped the plastic stick. 

“Is this real?” Harry asked, his voice very tight and small. Draco knew how much Harry had wanted— _craved_ —a child of their very own. Harry had so much love to give. The wizard radiated with it. Draco knew that this tiny plastic test was his every dream come true. 

That one tiny test was the potential for a whole different existence. 

“It’s real,” Draco replied, feeling all the nervous energy fly out of his body. It was replaced with blessed relief. “And I know that I should have waited, Harry love. Done the test with you. I’ve been feeling a little sick the last few weeks and, well, I didn’t want to see your hopes dashed… It’s real. That’s why I went into Muggle London. I suppose the pharmacist there thought I was buying for my girlfriend or… So, yes. I’m pregnant. And I’m overjoyed.”

Harry didn’t miss a beat. He wrapped his arms around tight Draco and pulled him into his embrace. Draco let himself melt into his husband. Harry’s face was wet with tears as the two men kissed and kissed and kissed. When Harry pulled away he was laughing. Sparkling with happiness. Draco laughed too. 

Of all the things Draco had achieved in his short life, this baby felt like the most significant. They laced their fingers together and let them rest upon Draco’s middle. Nothing felt very different yet but _everything_ was. Deep inside, their baby was growing and flourishing. 

A little miracle, made from the infinite love between Harry and he. 

~*~*~

Harry and he decided not to tell anybody until after the twelve week mark had passed. 

Draco couldn’t help but feel superstitious. Irrational, even. Their baby was under his protection. Growing under the beat of his heart. People in the wizarding world still loathed the name Malfoy. There were still those that imagined he had seduced their Chosen One. Those that believed he had married Harry for his own selfish means. Draco couldn't risk their blind hatred, not when their wands could curse and hex. 

After all, it wasn’t just him any longer. Draco had their little one to think about now. 

There were other risks to their baby too. 

Their Magi-Midwife had warned them that male pregnancies often had additional issues that female ones often did not. Draco’s baby was supported by his magic, so even a small fluctuation could put his womb at risk of a haemorrhage. Draco decided to take a leave of absence from the Apothecary, not wanting to endanger their babe by being too close to all those potent ingredients. 

The flying lessons that he’d been giving Teddy were cancelled too. Broomsticks were much too dangerous. Draco made Harry strengthen the wards on Grimmauld Place. He even went as far as to have their mail checked for incoming spells. Perhaps Draco was fussing, but he truly didn’t care what anyone else thought of him. 

Everyday Draco went to sleep excited and everyday he woke up elated, because everyday Harry and he were a day closer to meeting their baby. 

Every single day that passed was a day closer to the Potter-Malfoys becoming the family that Draco had always dreamt of. 

After twelve weeks had passed Draco felt a little more confident telling people their big news. 

The Magi-Midwives at the Paternity Unit were pleased with his progress. Draco even had a neat, round little bump that he most definitely couldn’t pass off as the result of one-too-many slices of Pumpkin cheesecake. What used to be firm abs was now a little pillow of softness that was emphatically all baby.

The very best part was that his Harry couldn’t resist touching his belly. His hands would splay over the growing swell, so reverent and so very gentle. 

Mother had cried when they’d told her during Friday dinner at the Manor. Pansy had squealed, entirely thrilled and excited. She’d thrown her arms around him and promised to support and advise, every step of the way. Draco had accepted her offer gratefully. 

Their baby was a constant source of fascination to Harry and he. Neither wizard seemed to be able to stop talking about the little one and everyday brought up something new for them to discuss. 

Which training broom they would buy when their baby reached five. What colour they ought to paint their nursery. Whether they ought to start buying clothes yet, or wait until they found out if they were having a boy or a girl. Harry wanted to wait and it was probably for the best. Draco would have emptied his vault and brought every baby item in magical London had he been given half a chance. It felt to Draco that Harry and he had talked about every baby-related subject under the sun but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

Harry thought that their baby would undoubtedly have his hair. 

“It’s inevitable,” Harry had teased, stroking a finger through Draco’s blond locks as they sat beside each other in bed. “My hair and definitely my green eyes. The whole world will know that they’re a baby Potter, Draco. They’ll be gifted extra portions of ice-cream as a matter of _routine_. Every inch the baby Saviour.”

Draco hadn’t been too chuffed with that image. 

“I’ll have you know that this blond hair has been in my family for ten generations,” Draco had grumbled good-naturedly in reply. “As have these grey eyes. You’ll be saying that baby won’t have my bloody _chin_ next.” He gave Harry a quick tickle in revenge for his cheeky comment. “Just as long as baby has got your smile,” Draco added a minute afterwards. “It lights up the room.”

~*~*~

A couple of weeks later Harry and he had shared had shared another momentous conversation.

“We should think about which day nursery we’ll want use when our baby arrives,” Harry had said, skinning a clementine which he broke down into several smaller pieces. “I had dinner with Hermione in the Ministry Canteen yesterday. Both Ron and her really rate the one in the Ministry Atrium. She said that it’s brilliant and that we’d qualify because I work in the building too.” He popped a segment into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “’Mione said that we’d need to register our interest now, though. Said that the places get booked up quickly.”

Draco had looked up from the _Journal of Medicinal Potions_ that he’d been leafing through. The idea of using a day nursery for their baby hadn’t once entered his head before Harry had mentioned it. 

“I wasn’t planning to send our little one to a day nursery,” Draco had said, folding over the corner of the page that he’d been reading and closing the periodical. He placed it on the floor. “I was planning to take some time off from the Apothecary. Look after our little one myself until it was time for them to begin school.”

Harry had looked quite flabbergasted at Draco’s words. 

“You?” he asked, “taking time away from your precious potions shoppe? When your name is painted above the bloody door? Wonders will never cease, Draco! You have to be bullied into taking a holiday at the best of times.”

“I _want_ to,” Draco said, laying a soft hand over his growing bump. He’d begun to feel some small movements in recent days. It wasn’t much—just small flutters, not real kicks—but it was enough to show Draco that their baby was there, and that they were growing and healthy. “I wouldn't really be leaving. I could still balance the accounting books from home, love. To tell the truth, I’ve already talked with Millicent about it… She’s all on board with my plan. The Apothecary is doing well. It isn’t going anywhere, but these first years? We’ll never, ever get them again.”

“That’s true,” Harry had agreed. He had slid close to Draco on their pillow and leant over to kiss his shoulder. “And you know that I’d support you whatever you wanted to do, love. It’s not like money is an issue whatever you decided to do.” He gave Draco’s tummy a friendly pat. “You’d really do that? I do prefer the idea of our baby staying here with you. Nobody else could look after them better.”

Draco had felt himself flush pink at Harry’s praise. 

“I don’t want to be my Father,” Draco said. “I don’t have much in the way of memories with him from when I was small. I spent my early life being raised by Elf-Nannies while he and Mother were sycophantic disciples of pure-blood society… You don’t have a child and then leave them to be raised by others. That isn’t what I want, at all. There’s never been a baby more loved than ours will be Harry, and I never want them to doubt it.”

“You’ve really thought about this,” Harry said. 

Draco nodded. Their baby wasn’t ever far from his plans and his imagination. “If I had to sell my side of the business to Millie then I would do,” he replied. “Without hesitation. There isn’t anything in the world that’s more important than you and the baby. Our family.”

“Our _family_ ,” Harry had echoed. “Little baby Malfoy-Potter, you and I. We’ll make a great team. Two Gryffindors and a live-in Slytherin to keep us from wreaking too much havoc.”

Draco had kissed Harry for that, partly for his impertinence and partly because because he loved him so very much.

Their embraces had turned warm and passionate as long seconds had passed, and then Draco had found himself being side-Apparated onto the cottony covers of their bed. Their lovemaking was soft and gentle, long and impassioned and, as he rode Harry, Draco had looked down at the round swell of his belly. 

It had seemed fitting, somehow, that their little one was between their bodies. Draco closed his eyes, inundated and overflowing with happiness. 

He wondered if their baby could feel the depth of it, too. 

~*~*~

Another month passed and suddenly Draco was twenty weeks pregnant. 

The two wizards attended their scan appointment at St Mungos, full of nervous agitation. A million nargles rolled through Draco’s belly. Today was the day that Harry and he had planned to find out the gender of their baby. Neither of them minded whether they were having a girl or a boy but just having that knowledge made everything feel so much more real. 

Draco lay himself down on the hospital bed, his heart beating rapidly inside his chest. He always got wound up and anxious at scans, even with Harry sat beside him and holding his hand. 

Partly it was excitement at the idea of seeing their little one, but a bigger part was fear. He pulled his jumper up over his bump with a shaking hand, and shoved his trousers down so that they were low on his hips. Everything had been smooth sailing with their pregnancy thus far and Draco simply couldn’t believe that his luck was holding out. 

“It’s okay,” Harry whispered, running his thumb over Draco’s hand. “We’re over the risky part. I know you’re anxious but you don’t need to be. Baby and you are going to be fine.”

The Magi-Midwife gave Draco a smile. “You know the drill,” she said to Draco. “A touch of cold salve on your tummy and then I’m going to cast the scanning spell. I’ll do my measurements and then we can have a look at the gender if that’s still what you want.”

Draco agreed, wincing a little at the cool temperature of the salve. Even after all these weeks he still wasn’t fully used to it. The warm coil of the Midwife’s magic came next and he didn’t dare blink as the image of their baby slowly began to form above the swell of his middle. Draco inhaled, his heart stopping for a couple of seconds as the green sparkles of magic coalesced to form Baby Malfoy-Potter. He teared up, unable to stop himself. 

Draco could see the movements of his baby’s tiny limbs and it seemed to him that they were waving to Harry and he. Draco could see the flicker of their heartbeat too. He could see a well formed head, legs, a torso… For the very first time, Draco could see a real baby and the experience was exhilarating. In a life brimful of marvels, this scan was the most magical thing that Draco had ever seen. 

“Harry!” he managed, his voice thick with emotion. “Look! I-I can see their toes! And that’s their arms! They’re _moving!_ Merlin. They’ve gotten so big now! I can barely believe it.” 

Harry didn’t reply. He was weeping too; heavy fat tears that rolled unashamed down his cheeks. All Harry could do was squeeze his hand and bring it up close to Draco’s body. 

The Magi-Midwife gave them both a fond smile “It’s always a big moment when you see your baby at their twenty week scan. Your baby looks lovely, Draco. They’re the right size for the dates that you gave me and all their organs are well developed… Their placenta is in a good position. Would you like to know the gender now? 

Draco couldn't speak. He nodded mutely as their Magi-Midwife swished her wand over his belly. The magical form above it turned over and the witch smiled, apparently unsurprised. 

“A beautiful healthy boy,” she said, jotting a little note down on the parchment. “I’m sure he’ll be every bit as handsome as both his parents.” 

For half a second the whole world spun. Draco gasped and his hands flew up to cover the bottom of his face. Draco hadn’t known he wanted a son but now he knew he was, he couldn’t imagine anything better. In just a few short months Draco would hold his little Scorpius–named for the brightest star in the sky–inside his very own arms. 

Harry’s hands cupped his cheek and the two wizards kissed, the pair of them overwhelmed and dizzy with delight. 

~*~*~

The next few weeks were some of the most contented that Draco had ever known. 

Mother threw them a little celebration at the Manor. It wasn’t much: just a few nibbles and some champagne. A few toasts were made. Draco had to drink sparkling pumpkin juice but he didn’t mind. 

Their friends gave them all manner of lovely gifts for their son’s room. The Goyles brought Scorpius a mobile to hang above his bed. Tiny little dragons swooped and dived in circles, chasing each other’s tails and flapping their wings. 

The Weasley-Grangers brought Scorpius an oak crib bed, engraved with ancient runes and enchanted to give their little boy happy dreams. 

Scorpius’s final present was a patchwork crib blanket, sewn together by Molly, Mother and Andromeda. Every square depicted a memory of Harry and his lives together. Shiny emerald green represented Slytherin house and an equivalent number of burgundy patches represented Harry’s Gryffindor robes. There were patches from the same material that their matching wedding suits had been made from and from Harry’s first set of Initiate Auror robes. There were even squares made from Draco’s own childhood clothes. It was an item of rare beauty. 

The little blanket was a document of two whole lives woven together. 

“It’s only right and proper that it’ll decorate Scorpius’s bed,” Mother had said as Draco had unwrapped the quilt and held it close to his chest. The craftwork was truly splendid and Draco was speechless with gratitude. “Every part of your life has led up to this moment. Your little wizard is the next part of your story together.”

The following weekend had seen Harry don his old Harpies tee-shirt to decorate the nursery. 

The pair of them had chosen a pale yellow, sunny, bright and gleaming for their little boy’s room. Draco had been too lazy to paint, but he had directed proceedings from a bean bag he had placed in the corner. Tiny enchanted lights adorned the ceiling, representing all of the constellations. 

Draco ensured that Scorpius’s stars shone the brightest of them all. 

The crib was set up beside the window, the dragon mobile was hung and–last, but not least–the patchwork quilt was tucked into the mattress. The two wizards looked down at what they had achieved, still astounded that their very own baby would be sleeping there before many more months had passed. 

“I hope Scorpius has it easier than we did,” Harry said, laying a gentle arm around Draco’s shoulder. “Both of us caught up in a War that wasn’t our battle. Betrayed by those that were supposed to love us. I hope that Scorpius has an easy life. Full of laughter. He doesn't have to be a top Quidditch player-”

“Or, Merlin-forbid, another Lead Auror,” quipped Draco. “I’d go _grey_.”

“Just as long as Scorpius knows that he’s loved,” Harry said. “That’s all that matters. I don’t care _who_ he is–crup trainer, wand weigher. Fuck, he can flog the Quibbler if he chooses!–just as long as he long as he knows how much we both care about him. That was all I ever wanted as a kid.”

Draco had no doubts whatsoever. 

With Harry and he as parents, Scorpius would always feel safe. “Of course, he’ll be happy,” Draco said. “We’ll make sure of it.”

~*~*~

Draco was sat in his Mother’s rose garden when his labour pains began. 

It was a Tuesday and only three days after Harry and he had finished decorating the nursery. 

Draco had taken to spending a couple of days a week back home at the Manor. It passed the time while Harry and Pansy were at work and Draco secretly enjoyed how well the Elves looked after him, bringing him fizzy drinks and plates of neatly-cut sandwiches. 

They had still been sat in front of him, those sandwiches. 

A tidy, refined little pile with the crusts cut off. Fluffy white bread, sliced into triangles. Draco hadn’t even taken his first bite when the first wave of pain had rolled and lacerated through his belly. Raw, terrified fright had seized Draco’s brain. The pain was too _sharp_. Too _pointed_. The pain was like that of a Crucio, but far more frightening, for it came from deep within himself. 

Draco remembered the sight of the roses, swaying lightly in the breeze. 

Each tall, elegant bloom was the same dark red as the blood that was steadily seeping through his trousers. He supposed that he must have been screaming but the sound of his voice was tinny and distant. All of a sudden Draco’s whole body felt weak and his head felt impossibly light. Draco’s vision blurred and all the oxygen flew out of his lungs. His legs crumpled and he found himself falling. 

_Scorpius_ , Draco’s mind cried uselessly, the name running through his mind on repeat. 

_Scorpius. Scorpius_. His baby. His perfect little baby, with his tiny limbs and his beating, pulsing heartbeat. 

The last thing that Draco heard before everything went black was the sound of his fine china teacup shattering and spilling on the stones beside his feet. 

~*~*~

The Magi-Midwives kept Draco for treatment at St Mungos for three days afterwards. Truth be told, Draco couldn't remember most of his hospital stay and the wizard supposed that was a blessing in itself. 

The painkilling potions that the Healers had given him were potent and so most of the time Draco had been anaesthetised to the world happening around him. He only remembered snatches of time. The minutes and the hours were a daze of dull trauma that Draco couldn’t seem to make sense of. Life was suddenly a nightmare that Draco simply couldn’t awaken from. 

Draco remembered the sight of Harry sat beside him. His husband hadn’t ever left his side. The other wizard’s eyes had been dull and his skin had been grey and ashen. Harry looked as though he’d aged a decade in the few hours since he had kissed Draco goodbye. 

“I’m so sorry,” Harry had said, his voice rough and breaking. “Our baby _died_. Our little boy. They say that there was nothing they could do.” A lone tear had rolled down his face and Draco’s heart had clenched. His husband was their Saviour, yet Harry was as powerless as he. “That it was nothing we did. I only wish I could die once again,” Harry had whispered, white knuckles grasping the side of the bed. “I only wish I could have been taken in his place.”

Most of all, Draco remembered the feeling of absence. 

The feeling of _loss_. Scorpius had been a part of him— _joined_ to him— and in the blink of an eye he was gone. 

All that was left was an echo. A memory. Draco was broken. A piece of him had been stolen and only then had he finally cried. 

Draco had known, trapped within that hard, cold hospital bed that he would never be whole again. 

~*~*~

Draco made Harry side-Apparate him home to Grimmauld Place. 

It was a feckless decision—he wasn’t anywhere close to healed yet—but Draco had been adamant. The last thing that Draco had wanted was to leave via the public floo, surrounded by happy new families and their guileless, innocent smiles. 

Grimmauld Place felt cold and Draco trembled as they materialised inside their living room. Not one item was different and the room felt false; unreal, like a stage set waiting for the actors to appear. The same novel that Draco had been reading was still sat upon the coffee table. 

The same chocolate frog card still poked out from between the pages where Draco had used it for a bookmark. The same paternity cardigan was still strewn across the arm of the settee where Draco had casually thrown it a few nights before. 

“Can I make you something to eat?” Harry asked, fussing and hovering over him. “Or can I get you some tea? The Healers said that you might have some prolonged shock—and you’re shaking, love—please. Just let me look after you. You’re not well yet. You’re still recovering.”

“I’d like to go to bed,” Draco murmured, his tone lifeless and flat. “I-I can’t. I can’t be down here.”

Draco didn’t wait for Harry to reply. All he could see was his husband’s dull, hooded eyes and all he could feel was the widening chasm between the pair of them. It was _he_ that had lost their Scorpius. Not Harry. It was his magic hadn’t been strong enough and he had lost them their baby. 

The Magi-Midwife had given him a supply of painkilling potions but Draco knew that they wouldn’t help him to sleep. He escaped to the bathroom and stole the last few dusty vials of Dreamless Sleep that Harry used to have prescribed for his nightmares. 

The potion inside was cloudy—spoilt—but Draco couldn’t have cared less. He upended the bottles and swallowed the rank, bitter liquid in a single gulp. It tasted vile, like acid in his belly but perhaps that was all he deserved. Some part of him hoped that he’d never wake up again. 

Perhaps losing Scorpius had been his destiny. 

He’d allowed himself to believe that he was more than his history. More than the Dark Mark that still despoiled his arm. A part of Draco should have always known that this was his fate. It ought to have been he that had died in his Mother’s rose garden. 

Scorpius had been the best of him, yet he had been taken away forever. 

~*~*~

It was three days after the funeral and Draco couldn’t seem to feel the warmth on his skin any longer. 

His magic was wonky and askew: spells that he had mastered aged eleven wouldn’t work and his wand felt unwieldy and clumsy in his fingers. His heating charms always failed after a few minites and he had resorted to wearing an unshapely Weasley jumper that had fallen to the bottom of Harry’s wardrobe. 

His Mother had suggested that he might feel better if he were to shower and go for a walk in the sunshine but even the most mundane tasks feel like a betrayal of his baby. It was an obscenity that the sun still rose, and the birds still sung while his son was buried under the cold earth. 

The nursery-that-never-was no longer existed. 

Ron and Hermione had charmed the yellow walls back to an acceptable creamy white and the old bed-settee had been put back into place. It was the Grimmauld spare room once again. The crib was taken apart and packed away tidily into the attic. 

Draco had stolen Scorpius’s quilt though. He liked the weight of it, liked the softness. Draco liked the heaviness of it draped over his knee while his unseeing eyes pretended to read. It was a tangible reminder that Scorpius had been with him, even if it’d only been for a short while. 

Harry had gone back to work for the first time that morning and his absence felt like a relief. 

The pair of them still hadn’t been able to talk about Scorpius. Of course, Potter had dithered and fussed over Draco plenty: caring was his husband’s love language and his Saviour Complex was a tried and tested coping mechanism. He was forever offering to run Draco a bath or offering to bring him food or hesitating an arms length away, queasy worry furrowing his features. 

Nothing, it seemed, was too much trouble for Harry except speaking their little one’s name aloud. 

Draco knew that they should talk about Scorpius. Knew that he ought to accept Harry’s help and let himself be cared for. His husband was hurting too, but there simply wasn’t the space in Draco’s heart to let Harry inside. He couldn’t risk breaking down the walls he had build up around his heart. Talking had always been his and Harry’s safe place and never before had there been a subject they couldn’t discuss. 

Scorpius was different though. He had been their happy ending, but now he was gone. No amount of Harry’s love, food or care could ever make that right again. 

~*~*~

His funeral had been a tiny little thing, just Harry and he, Mother and Pansy. 

Draco hadn’t been able to form words. Even breathing hurt. Draco had wrapped himself in the quilt and trembled throughout the small ceremony, incapacitated and lost. Pansy had spoken for Draco and said such beautiful eulogy. ‘Scorpius had never been touched by fear,’ Pansy had explained. ‘He was never once alone. He was never hungry and all he ever knew was a world of love.’ 

Draco had let Harry hold his hand and let Mother stroke his back but inside his heart had shattered. 

Long days were spent recuperating at the Manor. Since he’d made himself ill drinking Dreamless Sleep, Draco hadn’t really been trusted to be alone, but Mother’s anxious glances had wearied him as the afternoon hours dragged on. 

He had taken to lounging in his childhood bedroom, laying on his narrow teenage bed. Sometimes Draco would leaf through his old school-books or listen to scratched vinyl records that he’d deemed too immature to take with him when he left home. 

Draco knew that he was only living a half-existence but moving forward seemed too much of a betrayal. Scorpius had changed him forever. There was an absence inside his soul that Draco knew could never be filled. 

Draco lay back on his childhood quilt and cast an eye over the dusty books that sat, higgledy-piggledy on the shelves beside his bed. Before he’d even considered how much it might wound, Draco had Accio’ed his battered copy of _Introduction to Stargazing_ into his lap and had flicked nimble fingers over to Scorpius’s page. 

All Draco wanted was to have a small look at the constellation. 

Whisper his baby’s name aloud. _Scorpius_. Their shining star. 

Harry had torn down the lights from the nursery ceiling and he had taken the astronomy books away from the Grimmauld library. ‘I don’t want you making yourself poorly,’ Harry had said when he had questioned him about their absence. ‘Hermione thinks that visual reminders of Scorpius will only re-traumatise you.’

Draco stoked a finger over the image of eighteen little stars. He remembered sharing this book with his Father when he’d been seven or eight, learning about his own constellations. He’d never get to share that experience with Scorpius. He’d never get to share their family traditions. He wouldn’t ever be able to read him a night-time story. 

He’d never know what Scorpius’s voice would sound like or the feel of his little fingers knotting through his own. 

He’d never know his son’s yawn as his eyelids fluttered and he began to fall asleep. 

Before he could stop them Draco felt hot, furious tears begin to fall. Scorpius wasn’t going to grow up. He’d never ride his first broom and he’d never recieve his Hogwarts letter. 

He wouldn't ever fall in love or ever be married under the same oak tree as his parents. 

Scorpius wouldn’t ever get any older. 

Draco’s wand was in his hand before he was even consciously awake of having taken it out of his pocket. The wizard felt his magic course through him more strongly than he’d ever experienced it in his life. 

His veins raced with the magic of a dozen generations of pure-blood wizard. 

_Scorpius wouldn’t ever get any older_. His baby had died within his own body and the rank unfairness of that burned through him like a curse. 

The first Confringo smashed through Draco’s childhood wardrobe and destroyed part of the wall. The impact of it ran through Draco’s whole body, filling him with a sudden tingling adrenaline and making him cry out loudly. A spell second shredded two tapestries into pieces. 

_Scorpius wouldn’t ever get any older_. 

Draco wanted to rip the whole world to pieces and if he was torn asunder too, then so be it. 

_Scorpius wouldn’t ever get any older_. Shelves collapsed and school prizes fell to the floor. Books were torn from their bindings and the panes in his windows smashed. Glass flew across the room and Draco felt the sting of it cut into his arms. He didn’t stop. The pain was a reminder that he could still at least feel something. 

Bombardment spells rained from his wand and within seconds every item in his childhood room had been smashed into smithereens. 

The noise was deafening; dust and debris flew up and filled his lungs but Draco didn’t care. 

He’d have taken the whole Manor apart, brick by brick in the depth of his rage but for Harry Apparating into the room beside him. It was but a moments work for the Head Auror to swipe Draco’s wand from his grasp with a swift Expelliarmus. 

Draco found himself stood amongst the devastation he had wrought. 

His Mother and half a dozen Elves were stood at his doorway, their expressions slack with shock at the disorder before their eyes. Harry looked across the room at him. His husband’s face was wary and guarded. Draco watched Harry slide his wand into one of the secret pockets of his red, woollen coat. 

“Narcissa sent me a Patronus,” Harry said, his voice quiet, composed and professional. He was speaking to Draco like he was an unbroken Horntail, ready to snap and scream at the merest provocation. “As soon as she heard the crashes begin. She was terrified that you were going to hurt yourself.” He gestured to the ruination all around them both and held out a hand. “None of this matters though. All of this can be replaced or fixed but you can’t be, Draco. _You_ can’t be! Take my hand, love.” Harry requested softly. “I want to take us both home.”

Draco flinched at Harry’s touch, his whole body quivering and shaking. 

As the adrenalin swept out from his body the wizard felt even colder than before he had lost his temper. 

Draco watched disinterestedly as his Mother and Harry spoke for a moment and then he was being catapulted though space and air back to Grimmauld Place. He turned his back on Harry the very moment they materialised and went straight upstairs to his bed. 

He must have dozed, because it was nearly dark when Harry knocked on the door. Draco yawned. He looked up at his husband with tired, blurry eyes. He sat up and wrapped Scorpius’s quilt around his body. Even though he had slept a little Draco still felt exhausted and his muscles ached with fatigue. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” Harry asked, levitating a tray of tea and biscuits in front of him. He placed them down on the bedside table with an inelegant clatter. “Tell me about what made you smash up your bedroom? Narcissa and I- Well, we’re both really worried about you, love. Did you want to make an appointment with the Mind Healer that they mentioned at St Mungos? It might be helpful? Hermione thought it sounded like a good idea.”

Harry sat on the end of the bed and tried to scoot his hand under the blanket to rest on Draco’s knee.

Draco couldn’t help himself. He scoffed loudly and jerking his body away from his husband’s touch. 

“It’s always about you, isn’t it Harry?” Draco said, the words falling out of his mouth in a quick, savage torrent. Once they’d been said aloud Draco knew that he’d never be able to take them back but he didn’t give a single sickle. “The fucking _Chosen One_ , wand at the ready, always able to save the day. I loathe the way you fret and fuss, like a plate of bloody biscuits and a sweet little conversation is going to change a single fucking _thing_. I loathe your ridiculous suggestions. I loathe that you’re able to go back to work. I _loathe_ that you’re so calm and so fucking competent.” 

He rolled his eyes at the tray that Harry had brought in for him. 

Tea and biscuits wouldn’t fill the emptiness inside his belly. Wouldn’t fill the space where Scorpius had been. 

“Yet I can scarcely breathe! I don’t want to _eat_. I barely function. If I could will myself to die then I would in a moment! All I want is to be with my baby. All _you_ want to do is comfort. Heal me,” Draco sobbed at that, his voice breaking as the sentence came to a shuddering end. “But I’m _broken_. I’ll never be well again.”

“That’s not true, Draco,” Harry interrupted, his face contorting with pain. “ _I’m_ hurting too. Scorpius was my baby too.” Harry said, with a defeated shake of his head. “I’m supposed to be the brave one, aren’t I? Supposed to to be the big fucking hero. I couldn't save our son though.” His voice sounded bruised. Tired. “I’m not coping. I'm pretending. I fret and fuss because that’s all that I know how to do, love. I have to be brave,” he said, running a hand beneath his glasses, “because that’s all I have. All I’ve ever been able to do. You’re so silent, Draco! All you ever do is wrap yourself in that fucking _quilt_. You don’t even let me touch you any more and I miss you.” 

Draco felt a throb of hatred, red and rancid deep within his gut. He thought he might vomit. 

“You don’t want to _touch_ me,” he snarled, flinching away from Harry and plastering his body against the headboard. “You want to fuck me. You want to impregnate me and save the fucking day once again! Stuff me up with a baby and then pretend that Scorpius never existed.” His words were harsh and ugly in the evening quiet but Draco didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He never wanted Harry’s hands on him, not ever again. Harry had put Scorpius inside of him and now all that was left was another jagged scar criss-crossing his belly. That was all he had left of his baby. “I’m ruined now,” Draco spat out. “Ruined and marked. They cut me up and took my baby.”

Harry looked nauseated by Draco’s words. 

“You’re not ruined. You’re beautiful. All I want to do is be close to you love. I don’t know how to navigate what has happened… All I know is that I love you. I love you. I want to brush your hair. Wash your skin. Hold your hand and kiss you. I miss you,” Harry said, his voice a plea. “I miss you, Draco and I’m frightened. Our baby _died_ , Draco. Scorpius died and there’s not a day that’ll pass where I won’t miss him.”

“Yet that’s the first time you’ve said his name aloud,” Draco replied quietly. “He was _alive_. He was a person. You’ve done nothing but erase him from our lives.”

“Our baby died,” Harry repeated. “Scorpius died, but you’re still alive… And I’m selfish, Draco. You’re still alive and I love you. I fucking love you and everyday I see you slipping further away. You can hear him whispering to you from beyond the veil and you want to follow him there… And I thought that if I hid everything away–didn’t talk about him or mention him–then maybe I could keep you here, beside me. Stop you slipping into the abyss. I’ve lost so much, Draco! Mum. Dad. Sirius. Scorpius. I’m selfish. I can’t lose you too.”

Draco lay his hand on his empty belly. He lay his hand where Scorpius had lived, slept and died. How much he longed for him, still. Merlin, but Draco had loved him. 

All that love was still there, filling his heart and tearing through his body. Maybe that was what his grief was. All the unspent love that Draco would have shared with Scorpius over the whole of his lifetime. 

Harry sat down next to Draco then and he put his hand over his. 

For the first time since St Mungos, Draco didn’t cringe or push his husband away. 

Harry’s hand was warm and dependable, every line and tendon as well-known to Draco as his own. “Scorpius is a part of me now,” Draco said. “Just like he is a part of you, Harry. We can’t pretend he didn’t exist. We’ve been altered by him. We have to accept that.”

The two wizards sat there in silence, the weight of Draco’s words an impossible pressure between them both. Then Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle and buried his head into his shoulder. Tears came then; thick, gasping sobs that took all Draco’s breath. 

“Scorpius died,” Draco gasped into Harry’s skin. “Scorpius died and I loved him and I can’t bear it.”

“Scorpius died,” Harry repeated, his own tears mixing with Draco’s own. “And we loved him, Draco. We loved him.”

Scorpius had been wanted, cherished and precious. They had loved him so much. 

Draco let himself be held as the evening shadows turned to darkness and night-time encroached upon the day. 

~*~*~

**__**

######  **_“And grief is not something you complete, but rather it is something that you endure. Grief is not a task to finish and move on from. Grief is an element of yourself. An alteration of your being” –Gwen Flowers (2010)_ **

**  
**

**_SIX YEARS LATER_ **

It was sunny on the day that Draco and Harry took their twins to visit Scorpius’s grave. 

Jamie and Lily–three years old, energetic and boisterous–were dressed in matching Chudley Cannons tee-shirts and their wild Potter hair had been charmed into some semblance of tidiness for the occasion. 

Today would have been Scorpius’s sixth birthday. 

Jamie and Lily were still a little young to understand exactly who Scorpius was although both knew that he was an important part of their family. 

Scorpius wasn’t a secret and Harry and he mentioned him quite often. Sometimes Lily asked to save part of her Cauldron Cake for her big brother and the two small wix always included him in their imaginary games. A place might be set for Scorpius at pretend-picnics. Occasionally Jamie would insist on an extra bedtime story for Scorpius to listen to. 

Neither Lily nor Jamie could quite pronounce Scorpius’s name yet, but both enjoyed sleeping under their special patchwork quilts that they had inherited from their special big brother. 

It had been his Mother’s idea to rework the quilt into two separate parts, adding in patches of Scorpius’s baby clothes. Now the cosy material kept his two babies snug each night as they slept. Jamie and Lily’s own baby clothes had been added as they had both grown out of them. 

Five lives, woven together to form a whole. 

Sometimes Draco would daydream about the child Scorpius might have been. 

He could imagine taking him to buy his first school uniform at Madam Malkins. Green Toadstool Primary had soft, bottle-green jumpers and if Draco squinted he could see Scorpius–a tall, skinny boy, with his own white-blond hair and Harry’s green eyes– in the playground there, jumping high for the starter snitch and racing Rose Granger-Weasley over to the slides. 

Draco could imagine the Welsh Green dragon birthday cake that he would have baked and decorated for Scorpius’s birthday and the trips to the Quidditch that they would have shared as a family. His Scorpius loved reading, adored watching both his parent’s magic and adored listening to tales about how the two wizards had met, and battled, and fallen in love. Some days Scorpius felt nearly close enough for Draco to touch. 

Draco could almost feel the warmth of his baby’s smile and his little boy’s ethereal fingertips knit inside his own, tugging him along in his enthusiasm. Those were the days when Draco’s tears fell and Harry found it difficult to reach him. 

Harry would always wait for him though. Harry’s steady, dependable love was always enough to bring Draco back from the abyss. 

Scorpius’s grave wasn’t big or ostentatious. His life might have been small but he had touched Harry and he profoundly. Their baby was buried in the shadow of a little apple tree. The stone was marble of the lightest grey and the inscription beneath their little one’s name read ‘Our shining star.’ 

“Scorpius is here,” Harry said to the twins, gently gesturing them both forward. Both talkative twins were a little quiet, awed by the silence of the churchyard. “You can give him your presents now if you’d like.”

Draco watched fondly as his two little ones toddled forward, their gifts clutched tightly in their fingers. 

Jamie was carrying a toy Firebolt that his big cousin Teddy had brought him for Christmas. He had enjoyed playing with it so much that he had insisted that Scorpius have one too. Lily had chosen a fluffy owl, very similar to the one that she took to bed each night. They both laid them down cautiously, their eyes wide and unsure. 

They were both too small to understand that this was Scorpius’s final resting place but Draco had sworn to tell them everything that they wished to know, once they got bigger and had questions to ask. It had taken both Harry and he a long time but the two wizards talked about everything now. There weren't any secrets in their home. 

Once the twins had laid down their gifts they stepped back and Harry took them both by the hand. 

“They were lovely presents,” Harry said, leaning over to give them both a kiss. Draco felt his heart swell with emotion at the sight. How alike his three beloveds were, with their thick dark hair and their unabating kindness. No man had ever loved his family as much as he. “Shall we give your other daddy a little minute?” Harry asked the twins, “and then we’ll take a walk over to Auntie Pansy’s house? She’s doing us a special lunch, and then–if you’re _really_ good _and_ leave a nice clean plate–maybe we can go in the paddling pool afterwards.”

Harry gave him a nod, leaving Draco alone to take a moment. He took a deep, steadying breath, and lay his hand on the marble. Dappled shadows danced over the marble and the sun had warmed the stone. 

“Every night, I look for you,” Draco said, wiping away a stray tear. “And every night I find your constellation. You’re loved, Scorpius Malfoy-Potter and you always will be. An important part of our family. Our cherished first baby. Our shining star.”

~*~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx
> 
> \--
> 
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